


Doctor's Orders

by sans_patronymic



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bulma Briefs is the queen we deserve, Companionable Snark, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Play, Vaginal Sex, and Vegeta is very into it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-12 14:33:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20565938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sans_patronymic/pseuds/sans_patronymic
Summary: Bulma awoke to a rare and glorious sight: her husband, stretched out beside her, so deep in sleep that she could actually watch the drool slither onto the pillowcase.--In which Vegeta is laid up with an injury and Bulma has the cure.





	Doctor's Orders

Bulma awoke to a rare and glorious sight: her husband, stretched out beside her, so deep in sleep that she could actually watch the drool slither onto the pillowcase. He was lying on his side, heaped in an unnatural position which would undoubtedly result in a neck cramp. A wheezing snore drifted from his lips. Bulma loved to see him this way. Beautiful and grotesque, like a featherless baby bird.

Much to his wife’s chagrin, Vegeta was the type of unrepentant morning person who considered waking up at seven ‘sleeping in’ and, unlike Bulma, was usually getting _out_ of bed by sunrise, not _in_. As a result, she only ever witnessed him well-and-truly zonked out when the Prince of All Idiots managed to bang himself up sufficiently to require a handful of painkillers in order to board the express bus to Sleepy Town. 

The culprit this time was a torn rotator cuff and enough oxycodone to tranquilize a horse. 

She kissed his forehead and watched it wrinkle into a frown. With a whine, Vegeta rolled onto his back, a loud yawn marking his begrudging return to consciousness.

“Wakey, wakey, Prince Charming,” she cooed.

“Hrmphslurg,” Vegeta replied.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

Her fingers trailed lazily across the scars on his arms, his chest, his stomach. She loved the smooth, porcelain feel of them, pearlescent way they caught the morning sun. She had her favorites: the dark crescent-shaped mark across his collarbone; the lightening bolt on his right side, just below his fourth rib; the starburst on the inside of his left thigh.

Vegeta hummed as she pressed reverent kisses onto the pale line above his nipple. Beneath the sheets, she ran her hand down the front of his underwear. Teasing touches which conjured precisely the reaction she was hoping for.

“Bulma…”

The sound of her name on his lips was honey—sticky and sweet. She glanced at his face and found him watching her with hazy, unfocused eyes.

“Well, well. I guess _that_ got your attention.”

Bulma smiled as he brushed a thumb against her cheek. She loved the way the muscles on his face danced as she stroked him through the fabric.

“How’s your shoulder?” she asked.

“Mph… s’all right for now.” 

“Yeah? Pain meds still doin’ their thing?” 

“Seems so,” he mumbled. He was half-hard already, hips arching eagerly into her touch. “Mm, that’s good.”

She kissed him—once, twice, three times for luck—before tossing the covers aside and settling on her knees between his legs. 

“Lift your butt,” Bulma commanded, tugging at the waistband of his underwear.

“What’s this all about?”

She had to laugh. Only Vegeta could manage to be suspicious of a little mid-morning delight.

“I’m gonna show you what my husband does to _me_, when _I’m_ trying to have a nice, sleepy lie-in.” 

“And what’s that?”

“Let me get these shorts off you and you’ll find out.”

Vegeta allowed himself to be stripped without further complaint. His skin was warm beneath her palms as she skimmed them along the tops of his thighs. The sight of his prick, rosy-tipped and twitching to be touched, made her slick with desire. She took him firmly in hand and set to work. 

He tasted like sweat and sea brine. Bulma’s tongue circled around his cock-head, licking away the first, eager drops of excitement from the tip. Another meandering loop and then she drew him between her lips, one hand wrapped around the base of his shaft.

“Oh, _fuck_, I love you,” Vegeta blurted as she sucked him.

Bingo. There was the reason she’d woken him up. The same reason she sometimes poured his wine glass a little extra full; it was fun to see the thick veneer of control slip away, even for half an hour. She loved that sweet spot of mild intoxication, where the filter between Vegeta’s thoughts and his words just disappeared. 

Her hand moved in time with her mouth, stroking and sucking with a practiced precision. When she felt him start to squirm, that was her cue to look up at him with big, blue eyes full of mock innocence. The noise he made was somewhere between a grunt and whimper. It made her horny as hell.

“This… is a bad idea,” Vegeta mumbled. 

Her mouth full, it was all she could do to give an inquisitive hum.

“Because I—_mph_—because I’m not—_fuck_.”

Bulma pulled back, running her tongue along his length, and suggested: “Because you’re still a little out of it and you’re afraid you’ll hurt delicate, fragile, little me?”

“Something like that.”

“All right. Then I’ll stop.”

And stop, she did. She slid one hand along the plain of his abdomen, enjoying the dips and rise of muscle. His stomach tensed and quivered under her fingers. Vegeta tilted his head back against the pillows, a throaty chuckle bubbling up in his chest.

“Woman, you are _wicked_.”

“Oh, did you want me to keep going?” She asked, brushing her lips against his cock as she spoke.

“Yes,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Even though it’s a bad idea?”

“Yes.”

“Enough to beg me for it?" 

“I—_ah!_—not fair. Trying to trick me into supplication while I’m drugged.”

“Excuse you—anyone who can still use the word ‘supplication’ is certainly not _drugged_.” She sat up enough to slide out of her underwear, then her t-shirt, dropping both into a pile on the floor. “And if you are it’s your own fault for refusing to follow the dosage instructions.”

She moved to straddle him, trapping his prick between his stomach and her cunt. “There. Now, lie still like a good boy and tell me how much you want to fuck me.”

“A lot.”

“Aw, c’mon, you can do better than that.” 

With a slow, heavy grind of her hips, Bulma rubbed herself along his cock, slicking him with her excitement. The way the head bumped against her clit was enough to make her shudder.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you.” 

“You’re cruel,” he said, with a smile that suggested he like her that way.

“It’ll help you stay nice and focused. Now, talk, before I decide to go back to sleep.”

“I want… to be inside you.” 

Bulma couldn’t help but laugh at how his face flushed as he spoke. Vegeta could describe crushing someone’s skull in his bare hands without so much as batting an eye, but even the most polite dirty talk turned him into a stammering mess. It was equal parts adorable and frustrating.

She shifted above him, using one hand to guide the tip of his cock to her entrance. The pleasure of initial penetration sent a shockwave up her spine. She fucked him shallowly, taking in a little more each time, inch by inch, until her hips were flush with his own, the whole of him inside her. Hard and eager enough that she could could feel his pulse.

“Like this?” she asked, rolling her hips.

Vegeta’s hands gripped her thighs like vices. “_Yes_,” he hissed.

Bulma’s smirking game was every bit as strong as his. She took hold of the headboard and raised herself up, letting his erection slip out of her. The look on her husband’s face was priceless.

“If that’s what you want,” she told him, “then beg for it.”

“You would have made a terrific queen.”

Her hand flew, landing across Vegeta’s cheek with a loud slap that stung her palm.

“I _am_ a terrific queen,” she corrected, “Now, beg.”

For a second, he looked as though he might come right then and there. He squeezed his eyes shut, swallowed hard, and said, “Please. _Your majesty_.”

“That’s better,” she said and stooped to conquer his lips with a kiss. 

It had been so long since they’d tried this position that Bulma had almost forgotten what fun it was to ride his cock. The view of his chiseled body; the dopey, glassy-eyed expression on his face; the way every thrust landed so deep and hard, it made her guts ache. She made a mental note to get him flat on his back more often, preferably without having to injure him first.

Vegeta’s hands cupped her buttocks, hips thrusting beneath her with added force. She gasped and dropped a hand against his chest. His breaths grew shallow, haggard. Too much teasing meant not nearly enough time for the main event. He came with a short, sharp cry, arching his back as he pulled her down against his chest.

They laid there for a moment, her pussy pulsing indignantly around his softening member.

“Come here,” he muttered breathlessly.

“This is about as ‘here’ as I get,” she pointed out.

“No. Come _here_.” His hand squeezed her ass and tugged, lifting her up his torso. “I want to taste you.”

“Oh,” she said.

Now it was her turn to blush. Bulma pushed herself onto her knees and waddled awkwardly towards the head of the bed. At first, he raised both of his hands to grab her hips, then hissed and let his left arm drop against the mattress.

“Shoulder?”

“Yes.”

“Poor baby,” she murmured.

“Shut up.”

“Are you gonna lick this pussy or aren’t you?” 

He lifted his head and let his tongue do the talking, sliding between her folds and across her entrance. A warm, steady sensation that never failed to make her squirm. Whoever had taught him this particular skill, Bulma was forever in their debt. After a moment, Vegeta pulled away and made an appreciative hum. 

“You taste best with my seed in you,” he said. 

“Gross—Who’s vulgar now?”

“If I am, it’s only because you corrupted me.”

Bulma was trying to think of something witty to say, when he leaned up and sucked her clit into his mouth. She moaned, fingers tangling in his hair and pressed down against his face.

“_Shit_, that’s good. Move your tongue again. Yes, like that—_fuck!_—just like that. Holy shit, I love you. You’re gonna make me—right there! That’s it. Don’t stop. Oh, please, don’t stop. Oh, gods, I’m—“

The rest of her sentence dissolved into moans, though the meaning was perfectly clear. Bulma rested her forehead against the headboard and rode out the waves of her orgasm until her whole body trembled and her nerves began to protest the overstimulation.

“Enough,” she panted, tugging at his hair. “Okay, enough…I’ve got jelly legs.”

They sprawled together, sweating and spent. Bulma could taste herself in his kiss, a thought that made her body purr with satisfaction. She was about to curl up against his chest when she suddenly remembered.

“Is this the bad shoulder?”

“No, the other one.”

Satisfied, she laid her head on his Not Bad shoulder. “How is the other one?”

“Hurts.”

“A lot?”

“Only if I move my arm.”

“Maybe you should take it easy today.”

“Hmph, pretty sure I was until _someone_ woke me up.” 

“What time is it?” Bulma asked, sitting up enough to see the clock. “It’s only ten… Trunks won’t be back from his sleepover until after lunch, if you want to go for Round Two.”

Vegeta shook his head with a chuckle. “For that to be possible, I would need at least ten minutes, a sandwich, and possibly some ibuprofen.”

“I can make all of those happen.”

“Of course you can.”

She was already up and pulling on her robe. A few steps to the bathroom and some rummaging in the medicine cabinet later, Bulma placed the pill bottle onto his nightstand, along with a glass of water.

“What do you want on your sandwich?”

“I don’t care. Anything’s fine,” he said, cradling his left arm as he sat up. “Wait—I’ll come downstairs with you.”

A firm hand pushed him back against the bed.

“Nuh-uh, no you don’t. Last time we had sex in the kitchen, I had to buy my mother a whole new set of rolling pins. You just… lie there and think about me while you wait.”

Vegeta scoffed. “I was going to help you with the sandwich.”

“_Sure_ you were.”

“I was.”

“Too bad,” Bulma declared, stepping into her slippers and heading for the door. “You’re on bedrest today. Doctor’s orders.”

“Suit yourself, Doc,” he said, stretching out in the exact middle of the bed. “However, I should warn you that I will require your constant attentions. You see, I’m a _very_ sick man.”

“And don’t I know it.”

“Bulma.” 

The sound of her name on his lips was like a prayer. She turned to look at him, one hand resting against the edge of the doorframe. Gone was the hazy, spaced-out look from earlier. His dark eyes were sharp and fixed reverently on her. When he told her again that he loved her, she felt it, like an arrow to the heart. 

“You’re such a dork,” she said, struggling to keep her composure. “But I love you, too.”

She stepped out into the hall, to the kitchen, to make her husband a sandwich. How horribly cliche, she thought. They really ought to have a robot or a butler or something to make sandwiches for them both, and bring them in on silver trays with the push of a button. As Bulma stacked layers of bread, meat and cheese, she contemplated how best to program a mechanical valet, visions of circuitry dancing before her eyes.

She could use a little more help around the house. She deserved it. After all, she was a queen.


End file.
